The Hourglass
by Vroomian
Summary: little pieces of stories i don't have time to write. presented as is, so they may not make any sense (Naruto, one peice, mdzs, magi)
1. Upon the Mountain - MadaraOC

Choudai Akimichi considered the young Nara in front of him covered in sweat and barely coherent.

Shikijou panted and said again. "Choudai-sama, t-the Uchiha and the Senju clan heads are at the front gates! What do we do?"

Choudai turned and looked at Inoko. They met eyes and instantly understood. One of them was going to have to tell Choudai's brother and one of them was going to have to go to greet the two clan heads outside the gates.

Choudai's brother, whose wife was in labour right now.

"Well, I'm off to greet them." Choudai said. He'd take dangerous clan heads over Chouyoshi's temper at being interrupted right now. "Have fun with that."

Inoko's eyes went wide. "You've got to be kidding me. Choudai, get back here and wrangle your brother like a - "

Too late. Inoko's shouting was muffled by the screen door sliding shut. Choudai folded his hands in his sleeves and walked down the hallway, ignoring the llooks of the various clan members. No doubt curious about what made a Nara run like something was chasing him.

Choudai keeps his eyes ahead and his face calm - all the while his minds is racing, trying to recall half forgotten information from a lifetime ago. Thirty two years before, Choudai had been someone else. The details were fuzzy, because that's what living did (unless you were a Nara), but he remembered a story about a boy with a monster inside him who would change the world one day. He remembered the name of a village that didn't exist yet.

 _Konoha._

The Akimichi clan compound was surrounded by a high stone wall built by the second head of the clan using multi-size technique to place the thick slabs of chakra repelling stone from a secret mine in the mountains. The gates - made of the same material were large and impossibly heavy. It was largely thanks to this formidable defenses that the Akimichi fared so well in the uncertainty of the war torn era.

A long flight of stairs lead up to the very top of the wall, to the broad path along the top and the central watchtower. The three remaining Nara's on gate duty looked relieved when he ducked into the guard house, wild brown hair just barely brushing the ceiling. Even houses built for Akimichi were a little too small for Choudai sometimes.

"Kiro?" Choudai asked the nara on duty.

"We don't know what they want." Kiro drawled. Only the flicker of her dark eyes toward the ground showed her anxiety.

Choudai stopped to look out of the tiny sliding window.

Yup.

That sure was an Uchiha and a Seiji, standing alone in front of the clan compound. Choudai could just make out the sound of someone shouting. They were too far away to be intelligible.

Choudai shut the window and looked up at the ceiling. Then he folded his arms into his sleeves again and nodded to Kiro. "Open the gate."

She paused. "My lord?"

Which was Nara for 'are you fucking insane?'

"We can't keep Clan heads waiting all day. It's bad manners." And if there was anything the Akimichi hated, outside of wasting food, it was deliberate rudeness.

Kiro's mouth went pinched, but it wasn't like she could refuse. The Nara and Yamanaka were close to the Akimichi, but they were still only vassals. If the brother of the Clan Head gave a direct order, she had to obey. "As you wish, my lord."

* * *

Madara pinched the bridge of his nose as Hashirama continued to whine about his damnable little brother. Even when Tobirama wasn't around, he was causing Madara's problem.

"And then Mito started doing that scary smile thing, you know the one —"

Like a gift from the gods, the gate chooses this moment to open quietly, cutting off Hashirama's asinine story. Out of stepped the largest man he'd ever seen, standing at least a foot over madara and Hashirama. Even for the Akimichi, the man was tall and broad. There was a layer of fat the did nothing to hide the way he could crush boulders in one hand if he wanted. Two red slash marks followed the curve of his cheekbones. His chakra felt like a still ocean, quiet and calm and fathomless. Bottomless.

Madara knew who this was.

The way Hashirama went still beside him said he did too.

Choudai Akimichi.

 _The Mountain._

Madara had never faced him in battle - the Uchiha knew better than to go up against an alliance that included people who could steal your mind just from looking in your eyes. Plus, the Akimichi outnumbered damn near everyone, not even including the Nara and the Yamanaka.

Choudai the Mountain's reputation preceded him. It came from the fact that he once grew so large in size that he picked up a mountain and dropped it on his opponents, leaving only a few survivors. Ninja were fast and durable, but there wasn't much anyone could do against something that big.

The man studied the two of them from the top of steps leading to the compound gates. "Uchiha-San. Senju-san. This is an unexpected visit."

How could such a large man have such a quiet voice? Looking at this man, who walked softly and spoke softly, doubt ate at Madara. He was big, yes, but Madara could sense no ill will, no killing intent from him. He looked curious, but not wary.

Madara nudged Hashirama when he just sat there and let the silence drag on. This was his idea, so Hashirama should suffer for it.

"H-huge." Hashirama said.

Madara covered his eyes. They were going to die and it was going to be humiliating. He was going to get squished.

Izuna was going to laugh _forever_.

 _The Akimichi already know how alliances work_ , Hashirama said. _Let's just try it,_ Hashirama said. _I'm sure it'll be fine,_ Hashirama said.

He really needed to stop listening to Hashirama's ideas.

"I mean, it's nice to meet you?" Hashirama squeaked.

"Stop talking." Madara hissed. He shoved his idiot friend hard enough to make him stumble. "You're making us look like idiots, you bastard!"

Hashirama squawked. "Shut up!

"It's nice to meet you as well." Choudai said.

Madara froze in the middle of putting Hashirama in a headlock. Acting like a child in front of Choudai, the second in command of the Ino-Shika-Chou alliance.

Madara blames Hashirama's influence. Most of Madara's problems could be traced back to the Senju. He straightened up, dropping Hashirama out of his headlock. He met the eyes of the mountain, projecting dignity as hard as he could. "The Uchiha and the Senju extend their hands in an offer of friendship towards the Akimichi, Nara, and Yamanaka clans."

Choudai's face remains passive. It's oddly intimidating.

Madara feels his mouth pull down. He doesn't like it. Madara is used to being the best or the best. For a long, long time Hashirama was the only one who could even come close to matching him. Even Izuna lagged far behind.

The Akimichi is stronger than most ninja, without using any chakra at all. Plus he has seven years on Madara. Experience is nothing to scoff at.

He could take Choudai, of course, but you never fought just one Akimichi.

Madara eyed the mountain's arms - easily the size of Madara's head - and swallowed a bit. His mouth felt strangely dry.

* * *

 **and then there was drama and world building and war and a spring wedding**


	2. Courage Without - ShikakuOC

Inomi doesn't speak for three years, after he's born. Instead, he thinks. Careful and slow, feeling his way through fog of being new like someone walking a tightrope above a bridge. It's harder than it looks.

Ninja is a strange concept. He watches his father with serious dark blue eyes, absently chewing on one fist. The word brings back the color orange, and the face of a fox. The words are just out of reach, on the tip of his tongue - if he could speak.

His father squats down at the entrance, with a small smile. "Thinking hard, my baby?"

Because his little mouth and tongue are stiff and strange, Inomi meets his new father's eyes instead. They're full of something he wants to call affection.

Inomi is too young, probably, to understand that war means you don't come back sometimes.

He knows anyway.

So Inomi holds out his hands in the universal signal for up. Inosai obliges with a laugh, pressing a warm kiss to his forehead. "Let's go find your mother, you little escape artist. Does she even know that you're gone?"

Inomi shrugs, but his stomach lets out a loud gurgle.

His father laughs. "Let's get you fed."

He takes Inomi to his favorite place - the kitchen. It's no akimichi kitchen, but it's still a bright, warm heart. Inosai puts him down in the highchair and begins making formula.

Inomi meets his father's eyes and reaches back to that small brush on his mind. His mother's mind, gentle and calm, like clean water. That strange energy that buzzed under his skin started to gather around his eyes.

It doesn't work. It's like there's a clear pane of glass that the buzz just bounces off of. Inomi frowns and tries something new. Inosai feel is different from his wife's. Like wind blowing through a field of wheat.

Inomi pulls and prods his buzz to match Inosai's. Then he tries again.

The wall falls away like sand.

 _Daddy_ , he thinks directly at Inosai, as loud as he can.

Inosai drops the bottle all of formula all over the floor.

Inomi blinks at his wide eyes.

"Honey!" He calls, never taking his wide eyes off Inomi . "Could you come here for a second?"

* * *

They call him a genius.

The elders stare at Inomi like he's an alien when he reaches out into their heads. Mimics the way they feel. The energy in his eyes shifts with each person, into thorns, sheer cliffs, tall oak trees, thousands of different sensations.

"A new mutation?" One elder said, sounding pleased. "Look at that - he just shifted to his mother's chakra signature again. He must like it."

"It must be." Another replies. "The start of a new bloodline. Not just a clan jutsu."

Inomi doesn't much like the way they poke and prod at him.

Inomi prefers his mother's clean water, or Inosai's field of rolling grass.

Inochi, who's just turned six, still has no real feel of his own. He tilts his head. "Is that why you don't talk?"

Inomi blows as spit bubble at him. Not really. He just didn't like stumbling over his own tongue, when he was used to being able to articulate whatever he wanted. that was probably the worst part of the whole business.

Inochi poked Inomi little foot. "Whatever. You've always been a little baby weirdo."

Instead of replying, Inomi grabbed the book Inochi had been practicing his reading out of and pushed into his hands. Then he crawled into his lap under it. Let the elders speculate on their own.

"Story time?" Mother said, voice amused.

Inomi couldn't see Inochi rolling his eyes, but he could feel it anyway.

"Little brothers," Inochi grumbled. He flipped open the book anyway, and started reading. " Far away in the mountains, there lived a man who..."

* * *

Inomi raised his hand. "Sensei, I thought we were supposed to get a girl on our team?"

The whole classroom paused.

Hanaki-sensei blinked. "You do."

Inomi glanced at his teammates again. It was still just Kinomi and Saki. "No we don't."

"Sakiko Aramina."

...Aramina?

Saki clears his throat. "H-he means me, Yamanaka-san."

Inomi tilted his head. "You said you were a boy."

Saki's hands became white knuckles fist and his dark hair frames his face. "I am." His voice is barely a whisper.

Ah.

Inomi makes a face. "Saki is a _boy_ sensei." He puts on his best preteen _duh_ voice.

"Sakaki-chan is in fact a girl. She's just confused."

Wow. An all around class act, this guy.

Inomi scoffs. "I think he'd know _his_ gender better than some random chunin."

The random chunnin's eyebrow draws down. "You're not out of the academy yet, Yamanaka. Respect your elders."

Inomi sniffed, but subsided. Clearly complaining to a simple grunt would do nothing. He would have to kick it up the chain.

After he did some research first.

* * *

Inomi swayed in place in front of the Ariamina estate. His hands are locked around a truly staggering amount of scrolls and papers.

The door creaked open and a timid looking woman with Saki's eyes peaked through the door. "Hello, can I help you?"

"Hi, I'm Yamanaka Inomi . Is your son at home."

His mother blinks and then a small smile takes over her face. "Oh! Yamanaka-kun. Saki's new teammate, right? Come in, come in. He's in is room at the moment." She holds open the door and lets Inomi slip inside. She turned and called out up the stairs. "Saki, your teammate is here."

There's a second of silence, then the sound of someone nearly throwing themselves down the stairs. Saki appears in seconds. "What?"

"Hey." Inomi would have waved, but his hands were still filled with the paperwork.

Saki stared at him, one hand still on the stairs railing. "Yamanaka? What are you doing here?"

Inomi Inomi winced. "I thought I should apologize for making a scene in class today. I didn't mean to put you on the spot like that."

"Put me on the - you argued with the teacher about my gender."

He cleared his throat. "Yes. I should have realized that if you didn't say anything, I probably shouldn't have done it in front of all our classmates. So. I decided to see if there was anything I could do about the situation?" He looked at Saki's mother. "Is there anywhere I put these down? I'll need your help for this as well."

She blinked. "My Help? Of course."

The three of them went to the kitchen. Inomi pushed out the head chair and started spreading out the paperwork on the small table.

The two watched with ever growing curiosity.

"Full body transformation technique - what is that?" Saki's mother asked.

Saki snapped around to stare at his mother, then the paperwork, then his mother again.

"Okay, so. I know that Saki's situation isn't that uncommon, so I spent some time digging through the Nara clan archives." Avoiding Shikaku the whole time. Inomi could swear that anytime they're in the same rooms it feels like being naked. Highly unpleasant. "They have a lot of medical texts and whatever. And then I realized that - _obviously_ there's the transformation jutsu. So there must be something more real? That's what I would have done. I found this as I was digging around, so I thought that it might be nice to know."

Because honestly, what was the point of being magic if it wasn't convenient every once in awhile?

Naruto couldn't have been the first person to do a physical transformation. It just didn't make _sense_.

Saki was still staring at the paper.

Inomi Inomi cleared his throat. "It's perfectly safe - I tested it on myself already. No real side effects, except it takes a lot of chakra to start the first time."

Inomi Inomi gathered up his chakra and made the seal, commanded it to shift. A poof of smoke and then a girl with Inomi 's hair and eyes stood in the kitchen.

His mother gasped, pressed a hand to her mouth.

"It's not the transformation technique." Inomi Inomi said. "It's actually a physical change."

Like a zombie, Saki took the proffered hand. He pinched it. No poof. "This is..." Saki whispered.

His mother touched his shoulder. "Honey? What's wrong?"

Saki looked up and Inomi felt the panic start. His brown eyes glittered in the kitchen lights, and his mouth trembled. "Thank you." He said. "Thank you."

Inomi Inomi shifted, a little unsure. "You're welcome? Anyway, do you want me to show you how to do it?"

Saki nodded, wide eyed.

* * *

Inomi is sixteen years old when the Kyuubi attacks.

Inomi tucks his one year old niece into the crook of his neck and takes off for the Uchiha district. The Yamanaka know how to shield the young mind from horror. Inomi is better at it then most.

They barrel past the abandoned gates, running and running until they hear the screaming of a mother forced too far. The boy is barely three years old; his eyes are open, but he's starring in the direction of the Kyuubi's malevolent chakra, with a look of utter fear. His eyes are a terrible sharingan red and he's not responding to his mother's desperate voice.

"Give him to me!" He snaps, and the mother, desperate and bleeding, does.

Inomi dives.

The child drowns in his eyes, falls into the maze of his mind, lost - but safe. Protected from the rest of the world by someone who can take care of the details.

The empty body stills as the boy stops crying. His - Kyodai Uchiha, three years and one month old, loves dango and illusions - eyes fade back to solid black. His body droops like a flower petal.

The mother starts forward in alarm.

 _'Mommy?'_

Inomi ignores the small voice in his head, looking out through his eyes, in favor of the woman herself.

"What did you do?" She snaps, pressing her boy to her chest like he would snatch it away.

"A deep sleep." He lies. Other clans got antsy about mind walking. Mind _stealing_ was something else entirely. "He won't wake up without my help, but he won't feel the kyuubi. He'll be fine. Get to the shelters! Come find me after and I'll wake him up. Ask for Inomi Yamanaka."

She stares at him, then gathers up the boy in her arms and sprints to the mountains.

Good. One down.

One hundred to go.

* * *

Inomi can't hear himself think. His mind is full of questions, childish and not, all of the tiny lights in his head about to burst. Three hundred and four minds, even small ones like children, are too much, and it's too _crowded_. His nose is a fountain of blood and he's given up on trying to damn the flow.

The attack is dying down. Ino, his little niece is just starting rouse herself from her genjutsu induced sleep.

"Yamanaka Inomi?"

It takes a second to realize that the voice is outside his head this time. He looks up into the wizened face with sharp black eyes. The Uchiha fan blazoned on her right arm bracer triggers a tidal wave of thoughts.

 _Elder haru_

 _Haru-sama-_

 _What does -_

Inomi shoved the torrent of thoughts behind a granite wall, imaging it grow out of the ground like ivy, like a vine. Now is not the time.

"Is the fighting done?" Inomi asked. He'd avoided the front lines like the plague. Carrying this many minds, every single one stayed alive only as long as _he_ did.

The elder gave a sharp nod. "The Hokage has sealed away the Kyuubi at the price of his life. This way."

Inomi struggles to his feet, like something is holding him back. His head feels large, like walking is a balancing act. "Sure."

The elder leads Inomi past the destroyed compounds, into the hospital quarter. It's only a city of tents set up for the non-critical injuries. Elder Haru leads him to the biggest tent, nearly forty feet long, and just as tall. Almost like an apartment size rather then a tent.

She holds open the door and Inomi ducks in.

Row after row of Uchiha child, none of them older then ten, some even younger then a few months. Those were the trickiest. Infant minds require the deftest of touches. Even just brushing against them can break them.

Those minds are kept in the sterile environment that inomi can manage.

One of the women look up and Inomi recognizes the first mother he talked to. She stares at him, then bolts to his side.

"I told them - the medics say that it's like they're in a coma! Can you really reverse them- your ears are bleeding!"

Inomi touched his ear and blinked when it came away red.

That's... not a good sign.

"I need to reverse the jutsu." He said. "Quickly. Then probably a medic. And my brother, Inochi."

"What?"

"Jin! Let the man work." Elder Haru snapped.

The woman glasses but concealed.

"What is his name?" Inomi asked.

"Why do you need to know?"

So he can put the right mind in the right body. Even infants know their names, even if they don't really understand it. "It makes it easier to wake them up."

The woman glared. "Kyodai."

Inomi ignored her scowling and pried open the eyes of the child. He looked outward and inward at the same time, becoming a path, a bridge from one mind to the next.

"Kyodai . Your mother is waiting." The words contained no chakra, but the thought did. Inomi felt the small spark grow and separate from the others, like a train bearing a tunnel.

Inomi had just enough time to brace for the pain, before the kid hit and broke off, down the path he set out. It's like being torn apart. Like forcing something the size of a building through the head of a needle.

The needle just snaps.

Inomi feels another wave of blood flow from his nose.

It doesn't matter.

Kyodai's eyes blink open and he looks up at Inomi and smiles.

"You have light in you." He said. His eyes shine red in the small electric lamp beside the bedroll. Then he spots him mom and all of the calm is gone and he bursts into tears.

His mother isn't much better. Tears glitter in her eyes as she pulled the boy into her lap. It's the most emotional Inomi's ever seen an Uchiha get.

Well. He supposes they've earned it.

He feels eyes on the back of his neck and raises an eyebrow at Elder Haru.

"All the children here," She said slowly. "They activated their sharingan."

"Yes." Inomi said.

She turned to look at the children, row after row, growing white. "None of them can sustain that sort of chakra drain. They would have - " She cut herself off. "Excuse me. I believe that I am going to be sick. Don't wake the rest of them until I have called more of the clan - we need all the people we can get to suppress this as fast as possible. The orphans will need help."

Inomi's head throbbed with voices. "Hurry."

Elder Haru looked at the blood dripping into his mouth and her mouth goes tight. "I will."

The ordeal takes hours. All of the available military police crowd the tent, whisking away the children Inomi wakes with Sharingan spinning. They show the older ones how to control it, but most of them are too young to have that kind of control. Manual override is the only possible way to do it. They have seals for the infants, who are saved for last. There are barely enough for all of them.

After it's done, Inomi has a headache the size of Konoha. He wants his bed, his personal space, and to sleep for a _month_ , in that order.

A calloused hand brushed Inomi's face up. A familiar chakra signal flares in surprised. "Inomi?" Shikaku said. "What are you doing here? Inochi was looking for you and Ino-chan." Shikaku's face is unreadable, except for his eyes, which are dark. "Why are you bleeding?"

Inomi closed his eyes.

 _Fuck._

* * *

 **this one ends up as a ot3. shikaku already has a fiancee, and inomi knows he's not in the running due to not being able to provide a heir.**


	3. A Whale of a Tale - one piece, no paring

Lee Shore walked into a bar on some sleepy no name island, in the middle of the west blue. It sounded like the beginning of an unfunny joke at her expense; Lee tapped the bar with one nail. "Ale, if you have it. Brandy if you don't."

The barmaid relaxed slightly when it became obvious that Lee wasn't starting anything. "We do have ale. Coming right up, sir!"

Lee didn't bother to correct her.

The bar was small, which made sense. The town was barely more than a hundred people strong, even with all of the ships in the harbor. Fushia? Foosha? Something like that, anyway. Sleepy little place; not Lee's usual scene.

Nice enough.

The place was backwater, though. Maybe once she would have flinched back from the attention, but being nearly seven feet tall, built like a mobile tank, and a full of scars got her used to that real quick. The pointy teeth, blue tinged skin and gill slits on her neck probably didn't help. Not many fishmen on the outside of the grand line.

Not many not in the Arlong Park pirates, anyway.

(Not that they'd welcome a half-breed among them.)

The barmaid slid a tall glass of strong smelling ale across the counter. "That'll be ten beli."

Lee passed her the money, took her glass and found a place sat down on to wait. Her contact would show up around noon, and she made good time today. It was barely morning. She had a long wait, unless they showed up early.

They might. Nerves do that.

Lee flicks a coin around her knuckles. Waiting has never been a strong suit of hers as a kid. nothing like being reincarnated to make you realize that time is limited. It's been years since she last lost her temper though. Bounty hunting isn't a safe profession to be a hothead in.

It stayed quiet. The barmaid finally relaxed all the way after a good thirty minutes and began to hum while she wiped down the already clean bar counter. There were maybe four people other than Lee, all of them looking exhausted. One was clearly a drunk. The other two had the tell-tale look of night-shifts all over the world. The last was a kid.

A pair of eyes burned into the back of her head.

Lee ignored the kid they belonged to. Kids either loved her or hated her, no in-between. She just tried to ignore them when she could.

It was nearing noon.

It wouldn't be the first time a client got cold feet.

It was always annoying, but she hadn't lost anything getting here. Most of her money went unused anyway. She didn't have any expensive habits. Plus, it's peaceful here. Compared to the grand line, this was basically a vacation.

"You're _blue._ "

Lee glanced down. The kid - freckles, wild black hair, scowl on his round face - stared up at her without flinching.

Lee slouched over the table. "Yeah."

He blinked. That was obviously not the reaction he was expecting. He recovered himself fast - back came the scowl, and he crossed his arms. "What are you doing in Makino's bar? She doesn't serve weirdos."

Lee pondered this question, staring into her drink. It's been twenty years since she was reborn and she's sailed nearly half-way across the world, almost been to the end of the grand line, lost and loved, been in some spectacular fights.

"Life is weird." She concludes.

"That's not an answer!"

The door flew open. Lee glanced over - ah.

Lee only got two types of client.

The desperate, who needed help where the law had failed them.

And the rich, like this guy.

That was one weird looking man. Purple hair, curled so high it almost brushed the ceiling. Long ugly purple robe over an eye-watering yellow vest. All of it cost more than the whole building. His eyes darted around the bar and he made "Lee Shore?" He asked.

"That's me."

He sighed. "Please, follow me."

She downed the last of her ale, scraped back her chair, and rose to her full height. Her head nearly brushed the cleaning.

The kid gulped.

Lee ruffled his unruly black hair. "Later, Kid."

He snarled and batted away her hand, but Lee was already moving past him, toward the finely dressed man who was still looking at the bar like it offend him.

Good ale. Lee'll have to come back again if the job lasts that long.

The client lead her to a large purple eyesore, pulled by two large purple eyesore of a horse. A scary, intelligent looking horse. Lee eyed it. It eyed her. Predator recognizing predator.

Truce?

The horse snorted and pointedly looked away.

"My name is -"

"Better if I don't know." Lee cut him off.

Affronted, he glared at you. "I... suppose that makes sense. Do you know why I contacted you?"

Lee shrugs.

There's a strained silence.

"A woman of few words, I see." The client folded his arms, turned his face away as if he was trembling. "A marine by the name of Kislev has gone mad with power. Abusing the people under his employ, extorting the town, ruining the local businesses who are just trying to get by."

 _Ah._

Lee only got two types of clients. The desperate ones, who had actual problems they couldn't solve alone.

And then there were these types of people. The rich ones. The ones who thought that money somehow made them better than everyone else. The ones who thought that bounty hunter meant 'assassin'.

The stupid ones, who thought that she was a weapon who simply had to be pointed.

This trip was a waste of time, but there was always a chance of that. At least she got some ale out of it.

"I'll look around." Lee said.

The man froze for one second, hair wobbling with the movement of the carriage. "W-what? Haven't I already given you what you need?"

Lee stares at him impassively.

The purple man starts to sweat.

* * *

Like Lee thought, the purple man - Ronny Wellington Joycean III, head of the Ronny mafia famiglia - was full of shit. Kiev was not only not a tyrant, he wasn't even a marine. He was just a cop trying to do his job, and take down a drug trafficking ring. He was strong for the west blue, too strong for the regular methods to work. He didn't even have any loved ones for them to threaten.

Ronny got the brilliant idea to hire a bounty hunter know to deal with the people that the government wouldn't or couldn't. Mostly corrupt marines, sometimes pirates. Too bad Lee actually had a working brain. Otherwise the plan would have been flawless. She tore apart the mafia and went on her way back. No one on the island was good enough to scratch her (this was only the west blue, after all), but it was still a long day.

The bar wasn't closed, thankfully.

Lee leaned against the bar. "Whiskey. Strongest you have."

The barmaid smiled sympathetically. "Bad day?"

Lee took the large mug and payed. "S' like that sometimes."

The Ronny family had done it's best to fool her, but she just kept digging until she found the truth. They belonged to one of the Celestial Dragons. Pretty much the only reason that Kiev hadn't already taken them down.

It didn't help in the end; Lee took them apart. She had no love for the Celestial Dragons.

The dark haired woman smiled again but didn't say anything else, leaving Lee to her drink.

Lee decided that she was going to give her the biggest tip ever. She took her drink, found an empty corner and settled into it. She couldn't get drunk, unfortunately. Foiling a Dragon's fun was never safe, and she wanted a head start tomorrow.

Playing tag with the marines.

Good times.

"You're back again?"

Lee looked up.

No one.

"A ghost?" She wondered.

"Hey!"

She looked down.

The kid from two days ago scowled up at her. His face was way to cute and freckled to pull it off, but he gave it his best shot anyway.

He also seemed to be expecting an answer.

"Kid." Lee said.

"My name is Ace."

Why was he still talking to her? She remembers having the attention span of a goldfish as a kid - the first time around, anyway. " _Kid_. What do you want."

Ace shifted. "What would you do if the pirate king had a son?"

Well. That came out of nowhere.

The barmaid sighed. "This again, Ace? Don't start a fight."

Lee tilted her head. "Do?"

The kid clicked his tongue. His face went hard in the way a kids should never be. "Are you stupid? I'm asking what you'd do if you found out that Gold Roger had a kid!"

Nope. The question still made no sense.

"...Nothing?"

"That's what I -" He froze, eyes wide. "W-what?"

Lee shrugged. "Kid's a kid. Nothing to do with its parents done, anyway."

"Even if he carries the blood of a demon like the pirate king? After what he did to the world?"

"Ain't nobody guilty past their deaths, kid. All debts are square in the end."

She would know.

The kid's dark eyes are wide, and his hands are shaking. "I don't believe you." He said, voice quiet.

It takes a lot to annoy Lee. She's fought long and hard for a temper level enough to measure things by.

This?

On top of the waste of time she's had, the two days being lied to, the fact that she's not getting paid for this and she's going to need to pick up another bounty soon and play tag with the marines; this is the last straw.

The mug clicked against the table. "If I look like the type of person who would kill a kid," she leaned into his face. "Maybe you should back off. _Hmm_?"

His freckles stood out even more against the white of his face.

But he didn't back down.

It was the barmaid that broke the stalemate by pulling the kid away by his ear. "Ace! You know you're not supposed to be bothering the customers!"

"Ow, ow, leggo!"

"If you can't behave yourself, you can go clean in the back!"

"But _Makinoo-_ -"

Makino jabbed her finger at the bar. "Go. I want it spotless!"

Ace went, rubbing his ear - but not before giving Lee a look that she couldn't read.

"That boy," Makino sighed.

Lee hummed.

The barmaid bowed a little. "He's a good child, really. I don't know what gets into him sometimes. It's ... that question is very important to him for some reason. Can I get you anything to make up for it?"

"Ain't no problem." Lee wasn't the type to hold grudges. Especially not against dumb kids; it'd be very hypocritical of her. "Another ale?"

Makino beamed. "Thank you. Your next drink is on the house!"

"Thanks."

* * *

Lee didn't get wasted, as much as she wanted to.

Being a sensible person sucked sometimes.

Next morning her head was thanking her though - she only woke up with a seagull sized hangover, instead of a sea king sized one.

The sky was blue. She was laying on the deck of the Seventh Island, staring up into the sky. She inhaled, tasting salt and clean air.

Somewhere to the west then. Must have sailed a bit while she was got up and leaned over the low wall, looking into the water. It wasn't salt, so she must have drifted into one of the small pockets of freshwater that littler the blues.

(Even after twenty three years, the oceans still made no sense to her. How could there be places that salt just didn't reach? Bizarre.)

Thankfully, she actually dropped anchor in the harbor this time, instead of finding some out of the way place and swimming to shore.

Lee's stomach roared at her and she blinked. Right. Food.

She shook her head and ducked into the cabin - it was just a little too small for her - and opened up the food locker. She was starving -

\- and she'd still be. Inside the locker wasn't her store of food, but a little kid. Freckles. Dark hair.

...What the fuck?

Lee gave the little stowaway a flat look.

He flushed. "I got hungry!"

She rolled her eyes, then shrugged out of her jacket, leaving only the black band around her chest. She didn't really need it, but it kept her boobs from bouncing annoyingly. She kicked off her shoes as well. Her harpoon was leaning against the cabid where she last left it.

Ace followed after her like a little duckling. "What're you doing? Are you going into the sea? Makino said that the calm belt is full of huge sea kings. Bigger than the whole town!"

"S' full of food." She said. "Don't break anything."

Then she tipped backwards into the water without a splash.

Water swirled around her like a lover, and it seemed to laugh in the bubbles drifting up to the surface. Lee let out a sigh, through her gills this time. She stared upward with a frown on her face, watching the ship get smaller and smaller as the surface, and even the sunlight disappeared.

So. A kid, huh?

She'd have to return him to the island soon. Or find a marine base with a relatively trustworthy captain and have them take the kid back. Smoker was alright. She could swing by Loguetown.

They'd be out looking for her ever more this time around. Messing with the Celestial Dragon's things always made the marines jumpy. They'd be looking for her. Probably swarming around the island.

Lee kicked out with a powerful jump and speared a glowing sea king through the eye. It trashed once before it realized that it was dead and went limp. She tied it to her waist with a length of heavy duty fishing line.

She eyed it. It was the size of her, and fat with it. Wouldn't be enough. The kid cleaned out a week's worth of hard rations in an afternoon, and she didn't exactly eat light.

She was going to need more if she didn't want him to starve to death before she figured out what to do with him.

* * *

It takes thirty minutes for find a satisfying amount of food. She'd even found some natural sea salt caves and a few butter vines, which were yellow-green plants that only grew in the sunny parts of the ocean floor. They, as the name suggested, tasted exactly like butter. She stowed them in one of her pockets and towed her thirteen fish up to the surface.

Lee was smiling a little when she pulled herself onto the deck of the ship. The smile fell faster than a devil fruit user in the ocean when she got a look at the kid, curled up and rocking in one of the corners where the deck met the cabin. He was sniffling.

She knelt by him, a little unsure. "Kid." She said. What was his name again? Started with an a - Arnold? Amy? Ace?

The kid looked up with tear stained eyes. "You're alive!"

Lee blinked. What?

He seemed too relieved to care that his eyes were still red and his nose running. "I - I thought that you'd died, just to get away from me. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to eat all the food, I just got hungry-"

He kept babbling, to fast for her to understand more than the gist.

Lee could have smacked herself. Of course some kid from the West Blue wouldn't know what the hell a fishman is. When she went under, and didn't come back up he thought that she - what, drowned herself to get away from him?

Just what was going on in his head?

Lee sighed, ran a hand through her damp hair. Kids were a bit of a mystery to her. It's been what- fifty or so years since she actually was one? Being reborn didn't really count.

"Kid." She said, nudging him soft as she could. It still almost toppled him over. He squeaked, but he looked up.

"See these?" She jabbed a thumb at the gill slits on the side of her necks. They flared a bit, and the kid's eyes went wide. "Gills."

Slowly, he uncurled. "Like on a fish?"

"Yup."

"Y-you can breath underwater? That's so cool!"

The sadness vanished like it'd never been, leaving only red eyes behind. Kid bounced back fast.

"S' pretty cool." Lee admitted. For all trouble she'd suffered through because of her fishman heritage, when she hit the water...

It was worth it.

The kid tugged on her shirt. "When do I grow my gills? Do I have to get tall as you first?"

"Not going to."

His jaw dropped. "I'm not? How come?"

"M' part fishman."

"Oh. What's that? Is it like a reverse mermaid?"

Lee shrugs. "Close enough."

His stomach let out a loud grumble and he groaned. "I'm so hungry!"

Oh. Right, food.

Lee wrapped the fishing line around her hand and pulled her haul up into the boat. It lurched under the weight, rocking dangerously on its front once, twice, three times before settling back down.

"You cook fish?" She asked.

His little chest puffed up. "Of course I can! I've been catching my own food since I was six. This is nothing!"

"Huh. A'ight." She detached on of her knives from her belt. It's got a green banded sheath, and it's sharp enough. She held it out to him.

The kid hesitated long enough that she just put it on the deck next to him instead. "Aren't you worried that I'll try to steal it?"

Lee dragged a sea king twice her weight over and grabbed the other dagger. "Gonna steal it?"

"No!"

"S' okay then."

She put one of the non-poisonous species in front of the kid, and nudged the knife closer to him.

He stares down a it, studying it like a particularly dangerous snake. Like it'll bite if he touches it wrong. Eventually he squares his shoulders and snatches it up. The kid gets to work with the Blue-fin she gave him, working like an old pro.

What kind of parents make a six year old prepare his own food?

Lee holds her peace. She ain't got the right to say anything.

They work in silence for the most part. Lee's never been much of a talker and it looks like the kid goes quiet when he has a job to do. The most that happens is her directing him away from the fish that are dangerous to take apart. Those she does herself.

"What is this one?" He asked, pointing at a spade shaped fish two times bigger than he is.

"Speckled Jive." Lee said. "Edible. Don't need to cook. Good for jerky."

"And that one?" A red one this time, shading to deep purple on the belly. Smelled sort of like lemon. Lots of teeth.

"Haroldstine. Good for stews, watch the teeth. Venomous."

He frowned. "Is that different from poisons?"

"You bite poisonous. Venom bites you."

"Oh. How come you know so much about fish? Is it because you're part fish? None of the adults on the island know this stuff. I've never seen any of these kinds of fish before."

Lee stretches, back popping from sitting hunched over the fish too long. The sun is nearly swallowed by the sea and there's a veritable gore fest all over her clothes. All of the fish meat needs salting, but some of it can be stored in the small fridge in the cabin. She doesn't know how it works without electricity to power it, but it does the job.

"Food time." She said, instead of answering the question. The voice of her mother echoed in her ears, her warm hands point to each catch as it came in. Her father's bass rumble is a familiar counterpoint.

Every single fish wound up at her island at one point or another. Lee learned each one as it came.

The loss ached like an old scar. Not so fresh anymore.

It's been a long time since she had anything to go back for.

The kid's stomach growled again. "Finally! I could eat a house. A sea king!"

Lee's lips quirked the tiniest bit.

* * *

They end up having stew, made from a few potatoes that the kid missed, various foraged goods and chunks of Haroldstine.

The kid takes one bite. His eyes go wide and and he descends on the rest of the bowl like a shark in a feeding frenzy. Between her and him, there's nothing left when they finish.

He yawns. "How did you learn to cook like that? You didn't even have to go to the market or anything! Makino always does before she cooks anything fancy."

"Ocean's full of stuff. Jus' gotta think."

"Oh." The kid yawns again, and his whole body seems to droop.

Lee catches his head before he collides with the deck.

He snores.

Rolling her eyes, she carefully gathers the kid up and gets to her feet. The cabin is small, but it's tall enough for her to stand comfortably in, which is the one of the reasons she picked this ship anyway. It's a polished, warm feeling room with a small kitchen/bedroom combination. The bathroom is on the far end of the room, separated only with a small fish printed plastic shower curtain. Fresh water got fed through the cistern on the room, into the pipes. It was the only reasons that she could go months without once touching land.

Lee shifts the kid to one arm and hooks up her hammock with the other. The kid snored away, even when she settled him into it. she pulled a blanket over him. He muttered, brows creasing, before he pulled the potted plant print blanket around him like a cocoon.

Outside, Lee sighed and leaned against the mast. She'd have to turn around, bring the kid back. He really, really wasn't ready for the type of places she routinely went to; she wasn't going to get some kid killed just because she enjoyed his company.

Lee stared up at the stars. Night sailing was easy for someone who grew up learning to navigate the depths of the sea the sun doesn't reach.

It'd be dangerous. By now the marines would be out looking for her again.

By all rights she should be leave her ship at a random island and retreat to the bottom of the ocean, where the mostly human marines wouldn't be able to find her with their tech. Too many dangerous things lived down there.

Dropping the kid off at a marine base... didn't really sit right with her. Dealing with marines always felt like a russian roulette, a dangerous stacked game.

Will this one be the one who kills her?

Will this one be a decent man?

They exist. Lee's even met one once, a long long time ago.

There are so many more bad ones.

With a sigh, she pushes off the mast. She eyes the endless, starry sky, and sets a course back the way she came.

* * *

 **and then shenanigans happen, and the plot gets fucked royally.**

 **notes: lee shore's parents were deep sea pearl divers (both of them also named lee shore, which is how they met lol). the marines took over the town and killed her father and mother, but kept lee alive to keep finding the pearls. lee trained below the waves, going deeper and deeper every day, fighting sea kings of increasing strength, until she could reach the deepest part of the ocean, where even the sea kings didn't dare go. found some shit. Killed the marines and escaped.**


	4. Itsumade, Itsumade - Naruto OC

**_Itsumade, Itsumade._**

* * *

She's born a nobody — one more civilian orphan, funneled through the academy, one more piece on the board. Her name is Itsumade. She has dark brown hair with just enough curl to give it a perpetually messy look. Her face is plain.

A quiet child is a blessing to the orphanage. There are very few who remember her when she graduates.

By the end of the war, there will be none at all.

The second shinobi war is on, and clanless shinobi are a dime a dozen — shields for the precious, irreplaceable clan children. Itsumade, eight years old, is placed on a team with an Aburame and an Uchiha. Their Jounin sensei has dark circles under his eyes and carries the faint smell of blood with him. His mouth pulls down at the sight of his new soldiers.

"Well. We'll work on it." He says, not specifying what 'it' is.

He never looks twice at Itsumade.

Itsumade's team is not on the Jounin track. They are not expected to be anything other than part of the numbers game. He's not a good joinin. Wartime promotion lowers standards quite a bit.

Contrary to Itsumade's memories, there is no genin test in wartime. The only criterion is this: Will you survive your initial service?

Itsumade passes. The rest of her team does not.

They last for almost three weeks. Then comes a disastrous courier mission, ambushed by Iwa Ninja. The jounin dies first. Itsumade witnesses, the color of his guts against the muddy soil is far too bright.

The Aburame is swallowed into the earth and crushed.

The Uchiha loses his legs at the knees to a chakra blade. His eyes are pinwheel bright and spinning. Itsumade drags him back to Konoha, nursing her broken arm. When his clan comes to collect, he flinches back from the look in their eyes. He glances at her with, something like fear, like pleading. His clansmen do not look at her at all.

(Useless shinobi do not deserve the Sharingan. They take him with ungentle hands.

Itsumade will never see him again.

It would've been kinder to leave him among their team, bleeding out in the dirt.)

Itsumade, sitting in the reassignment office with her sensei's blood still warm on her face, knows there is nothing she can do for him. She turns away.

A tried chunin rubs his face. "You don't have anyone at all who can take you on?"

"No, Chunin-san," Itsumade says, and nothing else. Her hands are folded neatly on her lap. The paperwork stacks are higher than she is tall.

The chunin is not interested in her. She is not smart enough to be labeled a genius, not valuable enough to balance out her civilian birth, not talented enough to get special treatment. She's just another headache.

"Did your jounin at least teach you water walking before he croaked?" He asks. He is another clan child, and his milk-white eyes look right through her.

"I can water walk, Chunin-san." She says. It's not a lie. She can. She didn't learn it from her Jounin, though.

"At least there's that." The chunin shuffles his papers. "Alright, I know where to put you. We don't have the resources to saddle another jounin with a student, so you'll be assigned to a squad of chunin. You have three hours to visit the hospital and gather your things."

What he means: You are only a genin. He means: You didn't have the decency to die and spare me the trouble of figuring out what to do with you.

He means: I am busy and you are inconveniencing me. This is worth your life.

Itsumade says nothing. Neither do any of the other shinobi in the room.

She is assigned to the front lines, to run messages. She will likely die, like ninety percent of the clanless genin.

She is seven years old.

Itsumade learns: She is not even worth malicious cruelty. It's sheer indifference that seals her fate. This Hyuuga doesn't care if she lives or dies, so long as she is not _his_ problem anymore.

There is no point in protesting — Itsumade packs what she can carry and leaves in the morning with a small contingent of replacement chunnin.

It will be ten years before she sets foot in Konoha again.

* * *

War is messy; not just the blood, not just the fighting, but the sheer unrelenting grime that comes with being too tired or far away from water to keep clean. The camps smell like old sweat and pain, the shinobi smell like stress and worry.

Itsumade takes to wearing a mask; simple black cloth pulled up over her mouth. It rarely helps, but it keeps blood out of her mouth at the very least.

The bloodline kids on the front are all twelve or older. She is by far the youngest. The clans look at her and wonder what she did wrong, to be assigned out here. The clanless shinobi look at her with grim acceptance.

(They already know what she did.

Existed.)

"What did you do to get assigned to the front?" One Inuzuka asks, carding a hand through his ninken's fur. His name is Juro, and his ninken is Ran. He misses home and never shuts up. "You ain't some genius, that's for damn sure."

Itsumade doesn't look up from attempting to bandage her leg with one good hand. The other is broken. Again. She barely feels the pain anymore. "Wrong bloodline."

"Huh."

"I was assigned out by a Hyuuga."

Juro snorts. "Say no more. Hyuugas' are all bastards."

He doesn't offer to help with her bandages, and Itsumade doesn't ask.

(Healing is reserved for important shinobi. Leaders. Bloodlines. Clan heirs. None left over for Itsumade, who's only a genin and not even a talented one at that. Perhaps if Itsumade had a Jounin, he'd be able to teach her a few chakra healing tips that shinobi use.

Probably not, but it's nice to pretend sometimes.)

* * *

"Want to hear something funny, kid?" one of the clanless shinobi asks, face white with pain. He is dying and Itsumade doesn't know his name, knows nothing about him except he caught a chakra blade to the gut. Itsumade of his blood under her hands while she tries to keep him from bleeding out because there are no healers with this squad.

She doesn't ask. Doesn't waste good air on a dying man.

 _"Kohona loyalty,"_ The man says with a chocked laugh. He was cut by wind chakra. Kohona was fighting against Iwa. Not a lot of wind-natured shinobi over man's breath rattles - and stops.

The air is still.

Itsumade slowly takes her hands away and wipes them on her uniform. She rolls to her knees in a crouch over the man. She closes his brown eyes.

"It was a pretty good joke," She says to the corpse.

Then she sighs and goes to search his pockets. Wasn't like he needed his kunai anymore.

* * *

Itsumade learns: There is no one out there who will help you.

So she helps herself.

* * *

 **This one is pretty interesting. I might expand this in the future. she's probably going to end up with Orochimaru. this isn't where i'd start the story if i was going to write out the whole thing.**


	5. fall into the worldly net - mdzs OC

A Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation oc, because I have no self-control. Title from poem Returning to Live in the South (I) -Tao Qian

* * *

 _fall into the worldly net_

* * *

It's raining when Yu-wen lays dying in the dirt for the second time. Her throat aches where cold water splashes against the bruises around her neck. She doesn't even have the strength to close her eyes against the roiling black clouds overhead. Starvation and neglect turned her body into a heavy stone.

The streets are empty at this time of day, in this alley just outside the red light district. No one is around to hear her crying, so Yu-wen doesn't bother. Five years. She only got five years in this go around.

Ah. Ah, it hurts.

That's it, though. Yu Wen doesn't know how she feels about the bruises on her neck or the rasp to her breathing. It's so strange how fine she feels. Maybe this is why her mother sold her away so young - this odd lack of feeling. Something is missing in her. Something is locked outside. Yu Wen has been thrown away, and she is dying. Yet...

Yu Wen feels fine.

Yu Wen has never been anything but fine.

Grey eyes stare at the cloud, like a still pool. Calm, placid.

Stagnant.

There's nothing in her anymore. Yu Wen's last life is like looking at a movie in another language. She could feel herself going through the motions, but other than that... she can't connect. It's her but it's not her, she's there but she's also so far away.

It hurts, but that's all it does.

Yu Wen has seen the fear on the prostitutes she worked for when a particularly difficult customer is making trouble. She's watched the way their painted faces twist with the emotion, the way their eyes go panicked and wide. Fear... Yu Wen searches her heart and comes up with sand, with river water. It slips through her hands.

It's the same with happiness, ambition, with greed.

Yu Wen, more than living, wants to feel something other than fine. Maybe she's just broken forever. Some proof that she's not broken would be nice.

"Oh my god!" Someone exclaims above her. The rain pauses as a figure leans over her. "Are you okay, kid?"

Ah, it hurts.

Yu Wen blinks slowly at the stranger. He's wearing black, black, red. His hair is wild, even wit the rain. HIs hands hover over her wounds like birds not quite certain of their perch.

He doesn't have an umbrella.

"I am fine," Yu Wen says, each word scraping at her throat like a dull knife.

The stranger gives her an incredulous look. "Kid, you're definitely not fine."

Ah. He might be right.

"No. I am dying," Yu Wen says. Still looking for that fear, even with black eating the corner of her eyes. "But it's fine."

"Shit." The way his brows draw down and his mouth goes flat - it might be worry. Why worry about a child no one knows? "How is that fine, kid?"

"There's no one who will miss me," Yu Wen says. Her throat aches.

No one will miss her, because the people who took care of her so long called her a demon child. No one will miss her, the madame told her as one of her thugs wrapped his hands around her throat. No one will miss her.

Not even herself.

Fear is still out of her reach, so she can't muster up the facsimile of concern for the way the strangers face twists. It looks like one of the prostitutes after a dangerous man left. No tears, for the prostitute was so used to this by now, what was the point of them?

It hurts.

It must be terrible to have a heart so soft, it bleeds even over a strange child in an alley.

"Okay," The man in black says, voice rough. "Okay. Don't worry, kid. I'll make sure you're safe."

He gently picks her up from the mud. Even soaking wet, his arms are warmer than the ground. His heartbeat hums against her cheeks like a bird.

Hair like a raven, hands like doves, heart like a hummingbird. He's positively avian, this man. Perhaps he'd fly away if Yu Wen wasn't holding him down with her heart of stone.

Everyone gets a choice, though.

Yu Wen sighs into the dark.

* * *

When she wakes, Yu Wen's throat is aching. Even the terrible smell, sweet as rot, can't distract her from it. Every inhales scrapes across her bruised throat like fingernails. Her ankle is probably broken from the dull throb.

She opens her eyes to see a dim cave, lit by a pale red lantern. The rain roared outside.

Yu Wen blinks slowly. Where... ah. The birdman, and his bleeding heart. She turns her head and hisses at the fissure of pain that causes. She reaches up and touches her throat - there's a soft cloth covering the skin. Bandages? Under the smell of rot, there's the faint scent of medicinal herbs. On close inspection her, even her right ankle was splinted.

Did the bird-man really spend money on medicine? It wasn't cheap in this world. Or even a doctor?

...Too nice to live.

The sound of footsteps attracted Yu Wen's attention. Someone walked through the mouth of the cave, but it wasn't the birdman. It was a woman with pale skin and dark rings under her eyes. Unfamiliar, but she walked with confidence.

The woman looked up from the scroll in her hands and froze when she met Yu Wen's eyes. Her eyes went wide and then narrowed to dangerous slits.

Did the bird-man sell Yu Wen? That would make more sense. This woman kind of looked like the madame whenever she caught sight of children; like she was seeing some small, diseased animal no one put out of its' misery yet.

The woman strides across the cave, stands over Yu Wen, and puts her hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing, sitting up like that? I just got you stabilized! Lay back down!"

Yu Wen blinked at her. A doctor? Maybe the birdman sold her so this woman could experiment on Yu Wen? Doctors did that sort of thing, supposedly.

"Are you my new master?" Yu Wen asks.

"Don't talk, your throat is a -" The woman pauses. "Your... master?"

"The birdman sold me to you," Yu Wen says. "Like my aunt sold me to the brothel."

The woman's stance softens. She's actually quite pretty - a top earner, the madame would've called her.

"The bird - you think Wei WuXian sold you?"

Obviously. What other reason would a man have to pick up an injured girl?

(Wei Wuxian.

There was something about that name that pinged in the back of Yu Wen's head. Something...far away. Something distant.)

Well... the bird man didn't strike Yu Wen as the kind who'd pick up a five-year-old for the other, worse reason.

Still, Yu Wen's master asked her a question, so she nods obediently. It's only polite. "Yes, mistress."

The woman shook her head with a blink. The soft surprise faded like a mirage and turned into something forbidding and severe. "I'm not your mistress, brat. My name is Wen Qing, and I'm your doctor. So you better lay back down, and let me examine you."

Or else, her tone promises.

Yu Wen does.

The woman does a surprisingly thorough check-up. Yu Wen thought the medicine of this time might be behind - looking at you, indoor plumbing - but it's almost like sitting in the doctor's office. Very 'turn your head and cough'.

Eventually, Wen Qing is satisfied that Yu Wen hasn't set back her recovery by sitting up. The woman crosses over to the low shelf and picked up a cup, then crossed back over. She helped Yu Wen carefully sit up and pressed the cup into her hand.

"Drink," Wen Qing commands.

Yu Wen does.

It's... bitter. To put it mildly.

It also numbs her throat, rushing down like a cool stream of water, leaving relief in its wake.

Yu Wen drains it to the last drop and hands the cup back to Wen Qing.

"Thank you," Yu Wen says. It doesn't even hurt.

Wen Qing smiles, wry. "I've had grown men who complained about the taste. Good job. Do you know your name?"

"Yu Wen," she says.

The woman stills again. "Wen? Like the sect?"

Yu Wen shrugs. "I think so. It was my father's last name. Mother thought it'd make it easier to find me, apparently."

"You don't know his first name?"

"No. I'm a bastard."

An odd silence settles. Wen Qing - ah.

 _Wen_ Qing.

Yu Wen might still be a little groggy. She eyes her maybe-relative's tense shoulders.

"Did..." Wen Qing took a deep breath. "Was your father the reason you were sold to a brothel?"

Yu Wen tilted her head. "No. My aunt told me I was an unnatural demon and brought misfortune down on everyone around me. She thought that the Yiling Patriarch probably cursed me for being conceived out of wedlock."

 _Crash!_

Yu Wen jumps, and peers at the mouth of the cave. What was that?

"Wei Wuxian…" Wen Qing grits out. "Just what do you think you're doing? Pottery doesn't grow on trees!"

The birdman gives Wen Qing a strained smile, standing over the shards of a jar of something at the mouth of the cave. "Sorry! I'm such a klutz sometimes, you know? Anyway, how are you, kiddo? Wen Qing didn't scare you too much, I hope?" He shot a teasing look at the doctor, who just glared back at him with folded arms.

Yu Wen studied the man. Now that he was dry, his hair was a riot of curls, and the reds of his clothes and ribbon stood out from his pale skin and black clothes.

Yu Wen nodded. "I am fine, sir."

The man laughed. "So formal! Call me Wei Wuxian - no, no, wait! Call me Xian-ge! That way I don't feel so old!"

"Xian-ge." Yu Wen repeated gamely. It was a small enough thing to ask.

Wen Qing slapped him over the head and the man yelped. "Stay here, Xian-ge, and keep an eye on her while I get her some actual food."

He pouted at her. "My food is good."

"Not for someone recovering from strangulation it isn't," She pointed at Yu Wen. "Sit. Stay."

With that, she stalked out of the cave.

Xian-ge looked Yu Wen over, and a smile replaced the pout instantly. He bounded over to the bed, leaping the pottery. He crouches down by Yu Wen's side, close enough that she can see her blank face reflected in his grey eyes. His grin is blinding.

"You're so calm, A-wen! Ah, it's like looking at a little Lan Zahn - so cute!" Xian-ge pinchesYu Wen's cheek gently. "How could anyone hate such a cute little girl! Your aunt really doesn't know what she's talking about, ah?"

"Eavesdropping is bad manners," Yu Wen says blandly.

He beams. "You sound like him too! I wonder if he's got some secret love-child he didn't tell me about? A-Wen, is your father a beautiful man with gold eyes? Can he play the guqin?"

"My father was a Wen."

"Right! Sorry, my memory is pretty bad!"

Yu Wen was doubtful. Not even five minutes had passed since he was eavesdropping. How on earth did he forget in that amount of time?

"Xian-ge, why did you pick me up?" Yu Wen asked. "I'm unlucky."

People in this time period took that kind of thing seriously, after all. Yu Wen's father, mother, and aunt all took one look at her and pronounced her rotten. There was something wrong with her on the inside. There's something not quite right with the way she moves.

She can't connect with the people around her.

It is sad, even if she can't feel that sadness.

(Sand, flowing through her grasp.)

Yes, there was something wrong with Yu Wen. She was a nobody, an abandoned child. Not worth the blood it took to birth her, Yu Wen's Aunt always said.

Xian-ge's grey eyes go soft, like down feathers. Avian. He smiled and took Yu Wen's hand, and held it like it was something precious. "Luck is only what people make it, A-Yu. It's something only you get to decide. Such a good kid, how could Xian-ge leave you in the mud?"

Dubious at best. "You don't know anything about me. how can you call me good?"

He pats you on the head, and his hand is still warm. "I can tell! People call me a genius, you know!"

Yu Wen hesitates, before nodding. It's not like she tells herself how good she is. All her life she'd been called cursed, and she knows her memories of a past life are unnatural, so she had no choice but to agree.

"I really am unnatural," She said apologetically. The words catch in her throat, trip out of her mouth. This man is kind, and Yu Wen doesn't want him to get an unpleasant surprise later. "I'm too smart for my age. It makes people uncomfortable."

Xian-ge's smile ups it wattage back to blinding. He ruffles Yu Wen's hair with a laugh. "Don't worry about that, A-wen. I'm the master of the unnatural! I practically invented it, after all." He paused. "You mentioned the Yiling Patriarch?"

There's something about that tone.

(Wei Wuxian. Lan Zahn. The Yiling Patriarch -

There's something about those names.

Slowly, rusty gears start to turn in the back of Yu Wen's head.)

"My aunt said he cursed me for killing my mother, and for being a bastard," Yu Wen said. She said nothing when Xian-ge's eyes shuttered. His smile didn't grow or shrink, but it did grow stiff.

It didn't look good on him.

"...I see. What do you think, A-Wen? Did the big, bad patriarch curse you?"

Yu Wen shook her head, the man's hand moving with her.

"Oh?" Xian-ge's "Why not? Doesn't everyone know that the Patriarch is pure evil, capable of any depraved thing? He even killed his own shije! Why wouldn't he curse a cute kid like you, just because?"

Yu wen shrugged. "Maybe. I don't think he has that kind of time, though."

"Eh?"

"Farmers blame him when things don't work out with their crops. The prostitutes used to blame him when their customers didn't pay. Wives would blame him when they came to pick up their husbands from the brothels. Doing all that just because he's evil," Yu Wen mused. "I don't think anyone has that much free time."

"F-free time -" Xian-ge spluttered.

"Yeah. Most people are the center of the universe in their own minds. Why wouldn't the evilest person in history curse them to make things more difficult for them, specifically?" Yu Wen shrugged. "Most people aren't that important."

This was the most she'd ever said in this life. More than she'd said in the last five years combined; the madame didn't like to hear her too calm voice, or unnatural vocabulary.

Still, she continued. It seemed important to Xian-ge for some reason.

"I don't know if the Yiling Patriarch is evil. I think that he's probably still human enough that he doesn't care to inconvenience strangers for the sake of being evil," Yu wen sighed. "My aunt just mistreated me and wanted an excuse. It wasn't the Yiling Patriarch that sold me. It wasn't the Yiling Patriarch that choked me. It wasn't the Yiling Patriarch that left me to die."

No matter the situation that pushed them into it, in the end, people are responsible for their own actions. If someone put a gun to a person's head and told you to kill another person - that person still had a _choice_.

Your life, or theirs.

Yu Wen was only five years old. She wasn't going to excuse her aunt from her own actions.

Actions have consequences. Even she knew that.

Xian-ge stared at her, eyes wide. At least the strange not-smile had faded. Xian-ge had a face made for smiling widely, and Yu Wen... wanted him to be happy, in her distant way. He was kind enough to let her live.

Kind people deserve to be happy.

So Yu Wen reached out and pats his shoulder, gently. "It's alright Xian-ge. I'm not really upset about it."

Yeah. Yu Wen would have to feel something like being upset in the first place.

Xian-ge's shoulders shook once before he burst out laughing.

Yu wen jumped at the noise.

It's a bright sound that bounced around the cave walls like a ball made of light.

Xian-ge caught his breath. "A-Wen, you really are special. Most adults I know don't have that much common sense. So adorable." He pats Yu wen on the head again, like he can't help himself. "Rest and get better, ah? I'll show you around when that tyrant lets you out!"

Yu Wen doesn't have the chance to reply because Wen Qing returns to the cave with food. "Who's a tyrant?"

Xian-ge takes the chance to bound up and claps his hands together. He bows with mock reverence. "No one, no one, Madame Wen. We were just speaking of the most generous, beautiful, scholarly doctor in all the land, the amazing Wen Qing -"

"Get out of here," Wen Qing rolls her eyes. "The girl needs her rest and you are anything but restful."

Xian-ge laughs. "Lies and slander."

"Truth, and slander," Wen Qing says. "Out! Don't make more trouble while I'm busy or I'll sedate you."

"I'm going, I'm going," He ruffled Yu Wen's hair one more time. "I'll see you later, A-wen. Rest and recover." He stands and makes for the door.

Yu Wen bows slightly. "Thank you for the help, Xian-ge."

He waves the thanks off without looking back. "It's no problem, ah." He leaves like in a whirl of black and red.

The cave is quiet once more, broken when Wen Qing sighs.

"Don't let him bother you, Yu Wen. Wei Wuxian means well but he can be a bit much for new people,``she knelt by the mat and put the tray down. "If he makes you uncomfortable, tell me. I'll string him up."

Yu Wen accepted the food, a porridge of some kind. "He wasn't bothering me."

She snorts. "Then you'd be the first. Eat. No more talking for the rest of the day."

The porridge is delicious.

Wen Qing putters around the cave for a few more hours, doing mysterious things with various plants over on the furthest table. She occasionally glances up to check on Yu Wen, then goes back to her work.

Yu Wen finishes the porridge and sets the bowl aside, and settles in to think. Then she closes her eyes and breaths. Something is off. Something from Before tugs at her attention like a cat at a string.

Wei Wuxian. Lan Zhan. Yiling Patriarch. Wen Qing, the doctor.

The Wen clan.

The Burial Mounds -

Why does this all seem so familiar? Outside of the stories she'd heard at the brothel and all the rumors she'd known. What was she missing?

Like crawling through sludge, a name pulls itself out of the back of her brain slowly.

Her eyes pop open.

The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation?


	6. sunlight, sunlight, sunlight - Magi oc

There was a boy sitting in the shade of Judar's tree. He looked younger than Judar's eight years by at least a year, but there was something about the perpetual unimpressed look on his face that made him seem older.

Judar stared at the boy, stumped.

The boy stared back for a moment, wary. His eyes were a very pale shade of blue. Then after a bit of time passed and Judar continued to do nothing, the boy went back to playing with the string between his palms and strung over his fingers, contorting it into increasingly intricate shapes.

"You're not supposed to be here," Judar said. It was annoying to be ignored in his own garden.

"Tch," The boy said, and nothing else.

"I mean it. If I call the guards, they'll throw you in prison and you'll be tortured to death. This isn't a place for trash like you."

The boy snorted, attention still on the bit of string. "Do it, then."

Judar glowered at him. How could one sentence make it so it felt like he was loosing if he called the guard? "How did you even get in here?"

"I walked in."

"And the guards just let you?"

"As if I'd let them catch me."

Irritating, irritating, irritating. This boy was ignoring Judar, a magi, in his own garden when the boy was the one trespassing. Judar had never been ignored so thoroughly before - even kings had to bow to the one who picked them. What was so interesting about a bit of string when Judar was right here? Rukh fluttered around him in response to his irritation, begging to be used.

Fine! Judar gathered up the rukh around his hands and pushed it outwards in a burst of power that moved the plants in the garden as if in a sudden, harsh wind.

And finally, the boy looked up again. "...was that you?"

"Of course!" Judar smirked at the boy. "I could kill you for trespassing and no one would blame me. Not that anyone would anyway because you're just a street rat and I am a very important person."

"Don't kill me," The boy said - but not like he was begging. It sounded more like he was vaguely annoyed at having to say the words. He wasn't scared at all.

Judar was a little impressed. "Why shouldn't I?"

"Because I don't want to die. Obviously."

Judar scoffed. "Why should I care what some smelly peasant wants?"

Those pale blue eyes studied Judar. "You don't have any friends, do you?"

Heat rose in Judar's cheeks. The rukh fluttered again, but Judar found that he was paralyzed by the words. He tried to think of a single thing to say, but embarrassment had stolen all his words. No one ever _talked_ to him like this - this brat of a peasant had. Judar could see the flow of the world! Judar was powerful, was important, was _special_. Everyone said so!

And yet.

The boy nodded to himself. "I figured."

The heat in Judar's cheeks intensified. "You - you -"

"My name is Duban," The boy said. He detangled his string from his hands, stood, and dusted his cheap clothes off. He held out his hand to Judar. "I'll be your first friend, and you won't kill me. Deal?"

Judar lost the flow of rukh and stared at the boy.

He was nothing special. The rukh flowed through him without interest, like every other living creature who wasn't a magi or magician. He was just another dirty little peasant boy like a million others. Even his shoulder-length hair was a dull, limp brown.

The boy was the first person in the world who offered to be Judar's friend.

In the end, magi or not, Judar was still a child. Longing so strong crashed through him he had no choice but to accept.

Judar hesitantly took Duban's hand. "Deal."

Duban took the string he'd been playing with and wrapped it once, twice, three times around Judar's wrist. He tied the ends together in a tight not.

Judar pulled back and stared at his wrist. "What -"

The string was actually made of several red strings braided together into something stronger. It matched the color of Judar's eyes.

"Proof," Duban said. "that we're friends. It's called a friendship bracelet."

"It's cheap," Judar said at last. "Someone like me deserves gold, you know."

Duban rolled his eyes. "If you don't want it, give it back."

"No!" Judar clutched his wrist before he could stop himself. "You gave it to me, and that makes it mine."

"Then don't complain. Anyway, where's mine?"

Judar hesitated again, then took one of the gold bangles off his arm. Was this a trick by the peasant to get some of Judar's gold?

Duban barely glanced at it, before he shook his head. "No, it has to be something I can wear in the future, for when we're both grown up. I'll outgrow that in no time."

"How long are you planning to be my friend?" Judar blurted out. This whole encounter had him feeling off guard. _Weird_. This kid was so weird.

Blue eyes stared through him. "Until I'm dead. I _said_."

Oh.

If Judar didn't kill him, they'd be friends forever.

Finally, Judar took one of the black silk cords binding his hair and showed it to Duban.

"That will work," Duban said. He offered Judar his wrist with more kingly dignity than some actual kings Judar had met.

Heart in his throat, Judar took the boy's wrist and wrapped the cord around it - once, twice, thrice - and the deal was sealed.

"Friends," Judar said.

"Friends," Duban echoed, voice solemn. "I have to go home now, though."

"We just became friends," Judar protested. "You have to stay and play with me!"

Duban glanced up at the sky. It was late evening, with the sun already out of sight behind the large walls around Judar's garden. Long shadows fell all around them, creeping up around their feet.

"...I have a little time," Duban said at last. "What do you do around here, anyway?"

Judar beamed and dragged Duban off to show off his cool stuff, feeling something bright and shiny bubble in his stomach.

A friend.

Judar had a friend.

(Too caught up in the new sensation, Judar didn't notice The color of the rukh around Judar faded to a pale grey. Neither did he notice the way Duban's pale eyes flick to the rukh for the slightest moment.)

* * *

 **i wrote this in a sudden fit of inspiration in like an hour. i don't actually remember much about magi. the name duban comes from the Arabian nights story the Tale of the Wazir and the Sage Duban.**


End file.
